Blonde Redhead weirdly triumphant in Pomona

Anytime a band takes a distinct departure from the sound its fans have come to covet, the fate of the group's live show comes into question. Will the new material blend in seamlessly? Or will it stifle what was once a consistently riveting concert experience?

Such questions nagged me leading up to Monday night's performance by Blonde Redhead at the Glass House, the trio's second Southern California date preceding two nights, tonight and Wednesday, at the Music Box in Hollywood. The worry arose not because I would ever doubt the art-rock outfit's steadfastness as a compelling live act. Recent shows have been spellbinding, entrancing, even euphoric, some might say, and in truth Monday's Pomona stopover stands out as the most visually and musically dynamic display of heartfelt artistry in the last six years of the band's lengthy history.

But the mixed reactions to the band's latest disc, Penny Sparkle, left me wondering.

Overall, I'd give the album four out of five stars, noting only that it emphasizes more percussion and electronic influence while somewhat downplaying the surges of vocal power from frontwoman Kazu Makino (above), which lent so much emboldened vigor to the band's two previous records, Misery Is a Butterfly (2004) and 23 (2007). The fact that the album makes such a drastic leap -- primarily into the realm of trip-hop -- in the wake of the group's most commercially successful album (23) gives credence to Blonde Redhead's courageous pursuit of organic art, unrestrained and ever-evolving, even in the face of potential mainstream exposure.

Whether or not fans favor the new album, it seems unthinkable that those present at this intimate Pomona gig didn't pick up on the same aura of fearless innovation running through the band's set, which, although it relied heavily on fresh material (all but two of Penny Sparkle's 10 cuts were played), seemed only to instill a greater sense of exuberance and appreciation in the eyes of the faithful.

In large doses, the new tunes might have become taxing. But after opening with the ambient "Black Guitar" and "Here Sometimes" -- a pair of tribal trip-hop tracks that saw Makino donning an appropriately eerie mask -- the group provided comfort and relief with an explosive rendition of "Dr. Strangeluv," its haunting buildups and falsetto-tinged climaxes as uplifting as they were terrifying. That was followed by "Spring and By Summer Fall," another gem from 23 that underscores the band's new wave and punk influences.

The old-to-new/weird-to-recognizable pattern continued with "Oslo" and "Will There Be Stars," both full of heavy, MPC-driven effects and jarring, guttural yet alluring wailing from Makino that hinted at possible influence from the eclectic likes of Fever Ray, with a bit of Flaming Lips freak-out provided by twin brothers Amedeo and Simone Pace (above) to boot. These were followed by one of the evening's oldest tunes (off 2000's Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons), the horrifyingly charming and carnivalesque "In Particular," then one of Blonde Redhead's bewitchingly emotive masterpieces, "SW."

For the show's concluding run, the group chose three more from its latest -- the ghostly, piano-driven "Spain"; the night's only downright sleeper, "My Plants Are Dead"; the equally erratic and dance-worthy "Not Getting There" -- before ending the main set with an epic prog-rock jam on "Falling Man" and the always rapturous "23."

The encore was a reflection of the band's creative conscience: give the core fans a taste of what they came for (two lesser-played tracks, "Equus" and "Melody of Certain Three") while emphasizing its current realm of artistic comfort via a slow, chill-inducing arrangement of "Penny Sparkle," which reintroduced Makino's macabre mask.

Truthfully, after such an outright release of guitar-fueled aggression during the preceding song, the dreamlike fade of the final track was more unsettling than satisfying. Yet, in a distinct way, the unexpected ending further vivified Blonde Redhead's advancing musical aesthetic. Although Misery Is a Butterfly and 23 feel like the band's definitive works, no self-respecting music-head should expect such an ingenious band to produce the same record, nor the same show, forever and always.

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